CHAPTER XVI
AN UNSATISFACTORY EXPLANATION
We went into the house, but no farther than the hall. For the momentwe were come there she placed herself in front of me. I remember thatthe door of the house was never shut, and through the opening I couldsee a shoulder of the hill and the stars above it, and hear the longroar of the waves upon the beach.
"We are good friends, I hope, you and I," she said. "Plain speech isthe privilege of such friendship. Speak, then, as though you werespeaking to a man. Wherein have I not been frank with you?"
There must be, I thought, some explanation which would free her fromall suspicion of deceit. Else, how could she speak with so earnest atongue or look with eyes so steady?
"As man to man, then," I answered, "I am grieved I was not told thatCullen Mayle had come secretly to Tresco and had thence escaped."
"Cullen!" she said, in a wondering voice. "He was on Tresco! Where?"
I constrained myself to answer patiently.
"In the Abbey grounds, on St. Helen's Island, and--" I paused,thinking, nay hoping, that even at this eleventh hour she would speak,she would explain. But she kept silence, nor did her eyes ever waverfrom my face.
--"And," I continued, "on Castle Down."
"There!" she exclaimed, and added, thoughtfully, "Yes, there he wouldbe safe. But when was Cullen upon Tresco? When?"
So the deception was to be kept up.
"On the night," I answered, "when I first came to Merchant's Point."
She looked at me for a little without a word, and I could imagine thatit was difficult for her to hit upon an opportune rejoinder. There wasone question, however, which might defer her acknowledgments of herconcealments, and, to be sure, she asked it:
"How do you know that?" and before I could answer, she added another,which astonished me by its assurance. "When did you find out?"
I told her, I trust with patience, of the key and the various steps bywhich I had found out. "And as to when," I said, "it was thisafternoon."
At that she gave a startled cry, and held out a trembling hand towardsme.
"Had you known," she cried, "had you known only yesterday that Cullenhad come and had safely got him back, you would have been spared allyou went through last night!"
"What I went through last night!" I exclaimed, passionately. "Oh, thatis of small account to me, and I beg you not to suffer it to troubleyour peace. But--I do not say had I known yesterday, I say had I been_told_ yesterday--I should have been spared a very bitterdisappointment."
"I do not understand," she said, and again she put out her handtowards me and drew it in and stretched it out again with anappearance of distress to which even at that moment I felt myselfsoftening. However, I took no heed of the hand. "In some way you blameme, but I do not understand."
"You would, perhaps, find it easier to understand if you were at thepains to remember that on the night I landed upon Tresco, I came overCastle Down and past the shed to Merchant's Point."
"Well?" and she spoke with more coldness, as though her pride made herstubborn in defiance. No doubt she was unaware that I was close to herthat night. It remained for me to reveal that, and God knows I did itwith no sense of triumph, but only a great sadness.
"As I stood in the darkness a little this side of the shed, a girlhurried down the hill from it. She was dressed in white, so that Icould make no mistake. On the other hand, my dark coat very likelymade me difficult to see. The girl passed me, and so closely that herfrock brushed against my hand. Now, can you name the girl?"
She looked at me with the same stubbornness.
"No," she said, "I cannot."
"On the other hand," said I, "I can. One circumstance enables me to becertain. I slipped on the grass that night, and catching hold of abush of gorse pricked my hand."
"Yes, I remember that."
"I pricked my hand a minute or two before the girl passed me. As Isay, she brushed against my hand, which was bleeding, and the next dayI saw the blood smirched upon a white frock--and who wore it, do youthink?"
"I did," she answered.
"Ah! Then you own it. You will own too that I have some cause ofdiscontentment in that you have played with me, whose one thought wasto serve you like an honest gentleman."
And at that the stubbornness, the growing resentment at my questions,died clean out of her face.
"You would have!" she cried eagerly. "You would indeed have cause formore than discontent had I played with you. But you do not mean that.You cannot think that I would use any trickeries with you. Oh! takeback your words! For indeed they hurt me. You are mistaken here. Iwore the frock, but it was not I who was on Castle Down that night. Itwas not I who brushed past you----"
"And the stain?" I asked.
"How it came there I do not know," she said. "But this I do know,--itwas not your hand that marked it. I never knew that Cullen was onTresco. I never saw him, much less spoke to him. You will believethat? No! Why should I have kept it secret if I had?" and her headdrooped as she saw that still I did not believe.
There was silence between us. She stood without changing her attitude,her head bent, her hands nervously clasping and unclasping. The windcame through the open door into the hall. Once in the silence Helencaught her breath; it was as though she checked a sob; and gradually athought came into my mind which would serve to explain hersilence--which would, perhaps, justify it--which, at all events, madeof it a mistaken act of kindness. So I spoke with all gentleness--andwith a little remorse, too, for the harshness I had shown:
"You said we were good friends, you hoped; and, for my part, I can saythat the words were aptly chosen. I am your friend--your good_friend_. You will understand? I want you also to understand that itwas not even so much as friendship which brought me down to Tresco. Itwas Dick's sturdy example, it was my utter weariness, and some sparkof shame Dick kindled in me. I was living, though upon my soul_living_ is not the word, in one tiresome monotony of disgracefuldays. I had made my fortune, and in the making had somehow unlearnthow fitly to enjoy it."
"But this I know," interrupted Helen, now lifting her face to me.
"I never told you."
"But my violin told me. Do you remember? I wanted to know you throughand through, to the heart's core. So I took my violin and played toyou in the garden. And your face spoke in answer. So I knew you."
It was strange. This confession she made with a blush and a great dealof confusion--a confession of a trick if you will, but a trick towhich no one could object, by which anyone might be flattered. Butthat other more serious duplicity she could deny with an unwaveringassurance!
"You know then," I went on. "It makes it easier for me. I want you tounderstand then that it was to serve myself I came, and I do verilybelieve that I have served myself better than I have served you. Why,I did not even know what you were like. I did not inquire ofClutterbuck, he drew no picture of you to persuade me to my journey.Thus then there is no reason why you should be silent concerningCullen out of any consideration for me."
She looked at me in perplexity. My hint had not sufficed. I must makemyself more clear.
"I have no doubt," I continued, "that you have seen. No doubt I mighthave been more circumspect. No doubt I have betrayed myself this lastday. But, believe me, you are under no debt to me. If I can bringCullen Mayle back to you, I will not harbour a thought of jealousy."
Did she understand? I could not be sure. But I saw her whole facebrighten and smile--it was as though a glory shone upon it--and herfigure straighten with a sort of pride. Did she understand at the lastthat she need practise no concealments? But she said nothing, shewaited for me to say what more I had to say. Well, I could make thematter yet more plain.
"Besides," I said, "I knew--I knew very well before I set out fromLondon, Clutterbuck told me. So that it is my own fault, you see, ifwhen I came here I took no account of what he told me. And even so,believe me, I do not regret the fault."
/> "Lieutenant Clutterbuck!" she exclaimed, with something almost ofalarm. "He told you what?"
"He told me of a night very like this. You were standing in this hall,very likely as you stand now, and the door was open and the breeze andthe sound of the sea came through the open door as it does now. Onlywhere I stand Cullen Mayle stood, asking you to follow him out throughthe world. And you would have followed, you did indeed begin tofollow----"
So far I had got when she broke in passionately, with her eyes afire!
"It is not true! How can men speak such lies? Lieutenant Clutterbuck!I know--he told me the same story. It would have been much easier, somuch franker, had he said outright he was tired of his--friendship forme and wished an end to it. I should have liked him the better had hebeen so frank. But that he should tell you the same story. Oh! it isdespicable--and you believe it?" she challenged me. "You believe thatstory. You believe, too, I went to a trysting with Cullen on CastleDown, the night you came, and kept it secret from you and let you runthe peril of your life. You will have it, in a word, whatever I maysay or do," and she wrung her hands with a queer helplessness. "Youwill have it that I love him. Pity, a sense of injustice, a feelingthat I wrongly possess what is rightly his--these things you will notallow can move me. No, I must love him."
"Have I not proof you do?" I answered. "Not from Clutterbuck, but fromyourself. Have I not proof into what despair your love could throwyou?" And I took from my pocket the silk scarf. "Where did I getthis?"
She took it from my hands, while her face softened. She drew itthrough her fingers, and a smile parted her lips. She raised her eyesto me with a certain shyness, and she answered shyly:
"Yet you say you were not curious to know anything of me in Londonbefore you started to the West."
The answer was no answer at all. I repeated my question:
"How do I come to have that scarf?"
"I can but guess," she said; "I did not know that LieutenantClutterbuck possessed it. But it could be no one else. You asked it ofLieutenant Clutterbuck in London."
For a moment I could not believe that I had heard a right. I stared ather. It was impossible that any woman could carry effrontery to sohigh a pitch. But she repeated her words.
"Lieutenant Clutterbuck gave it to you no doubt in London, and--willyou tell me?--I should like to know. Did you ask him for it?"
Should I strip away this pretence? Should I compel her to own where Ifound it and how I came by it? But it seemed not worth while. I turnedon my heel without a word, and went straight out through the open doorand on to the hillside.
And so this was the second night which I spent in the gorse of CastleDown. One moment I was hot to go back to London and speak to no womanfor the rest of my days. The next I was all for finding Cullen Mayleand heaping coals of fire upon Helen's head. The coals of fire carriedthe day in the end.
As morning broke I walked down to the Palace Inn fully resolved. Iwould search for Cullen Mayle until I found him. I would bring himback. I would see him married to Helen from a dark corner in St.Mary's Church, and when the pair were properly unhappy and miserable,as they would undoubtedly become--I was very sorry, but miserable theywould be--why then I would send her a letter. The writing in theletter should be "Ha! ha!"--not a word more, not even a signature, butjust "Ha! ha!" on a blank sheet of paper.
But, as I have said, I had grown very young these last few days.